Dear Italy
by Thesilverlaurel
Summary: I'm afraid I have to break my promise. I will not be seeing you again.
1. Dear Italy

Dear Italy.

I'm afraid I have to break my promise. I will not be seeing you again.

Italy, I found out that you're… male. At first I was uncomfortable, and questioned my sexuality, but then I realised that I still love you, whether I think that you're a girl, or know that you're a man. I don't think that makes me gay. I love you because you're kind, and caring, and sweet.

I wish I could come back. But then I saw you with him. Germany.

At first I tried to tell myself that you were confused, that you thought that he was me. He does look a little like me, doesn't he? He's blonde, with blue eyes, and pale, and proud, and hard-working, just like me. But, after watching you from afar, I realised that you're happy with him. I don't want to spoil that for you, Italy.

For this reason, I will leave now. I'll leave you to be happy with Germany. He's a nice man. And you deserve someone nice like him. Someone sweet and someone nice; a perfect couple, if you ask me. But, of course, you won't be asking me, will you?

It's okay, Italy. Please don't cry, or feel sad, or lonely. It's better if I stay away and let you live your life. I'd hate for you to be forced into a relationship, or anything for that matter.

I don't wish to make you feel guilty, but please remember that no matter the years that pass, I will love you the most in this world.

Holy Roman Empire.

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**A/N:**

**I don't know whether I should add another chapter; Italy's response, or something. Also, I felt weird writing this, because I like the theory that HRE grew up to become Germany. **

**I don't own Hetalia.**

**-Laurel Silver**


	2. Dear Germany

I don't know if Italy has ever spoken of me, but my name is Holy Roman Empire, and your partner Italy was my first love.

It has been several centuries since I last saw Italy, but as I promised him all that time ago, no matter the years that have passed, I love him the most in this world.

I am not writing to you to threaten you, or to order you to back off. Nor am I going to try to win Italy from you. I love Italy dearly, so I won't force him to choose, or force him into a relationship he'll be unhappy in. I want Italy to be happy, and he's happy with you.

And for that reason, I am leaving. I'll never be far, but never close enough to cause Italy any harm.

So, Germany, this letter is not a threat, but a warning. Italy loves you as much as I love him, possibly even more, but if I **ever** hear word that you've hurt him, you'll find yourself dancing the hempen jig with Jack Ketch, understand?

With all due respect

Holy Roman Empire

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**A/N:**

******Yes, I'm extending the story. There will be two more chapters after this one; Italy's response and Germany's response.**

**'To dance the hempen jig' and 'to dance with Jack Ketch' are both buccaneer slang for 'to hang'. The nooses were made from hemp, Jack Ketch was a famous pirate, and the way pirates thrashed when hanging was often compared to dancing. **

**I don't own Hetalia, or Jack Ketch**

**-Laurel Silver**


	3. Dear Holy Rome

I've missed you. And I'm sorry that you never realised that I'm a boy. I thought that all the servants wore dresses, so I never made a fuss. Looking back at pictures of me- of us- back in Mister Austria's house, I did look rather like a girl, didn't I?

I **am** happy with Germany. And, when I think about it, I **do** love him. He looks after me, and he fills the void that formed when you disappeared.

I'm sorry that you lost your war. I hope your scars aren't too bad. Grandpa Rome had lots of painful scars all over his body. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even England.

Anyway, thank you Holy Rome. Thank you for not forcing a scary decision onto me. I'm sorry that you feel the need to stay away, but I remember how stubborn you were, so I'll let you do what you think is best. You were always good at facing scary things, but don't think that you have to face them alone. I will always be here for you, with a huge bowl of fresh pasta.

I suppose that after all these years, I should tell you something that was also missed when we were children. My human name is Feliciano Vargas.

When you left, I promised I'd make you sweets for your return. I'm sending a jar with this letter; that's what's in the box. And I'm going to leave a jar every holiday for you to collect. Please collect it.

With love,  
Feliciano Vargas

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**A/N:**

**I don't own Hetalia. This disclaimer covers this chapter, and the next. ****The next chapter will be short, sweet and to the point. It gave me the feels.**

**-Laurel Silver**


	4. Dear Holy Roman Empire

Thank you.

Germany.


End file.
